The White Crow and Black Swan
by Kill Bill
Summary: Mild, and I do mean mild, swearing. Sarah has lost.... tragically, though she can't see how she did and the king is playing some sort of game with her, but is it just a game or is it a desperate act? Summ bites.
1. 1

The White Crow and Black Swan

By: Kill Bill

**_So it all began and so it all shall end. With words of cruelty and with words of mend. To all who whisper with fright of fear. To all who whisper with love and tears. So is the story of our own heroine. So is our story hold true to the villain. _**

_Crow: boast, brag, show off, swagger, blow your horn and sing your praises. Yes, indeed, Jareth was much like a crow. But a white crow. Something that should not be allowed but is. Something oddly rare and priceless. This is Jareth in all of his forms, but his counter part, his better half, his other soul, is quite the opposite yet so alike him._

_Swan: strut, flounce, cavort, frolic, sashay, parade and, yes, swagger. Sarah is so much like Jareth yet so much unlike him. A bit of an oxymoron you say, yes, I quite agree.  She's just as prideful and stubborn as Jareth, yet so much more delicate, so much more innocent and pure, something he craves to hold. She's just as much of something oddly rare and pleasing to the eyes as is a black swan. _

_So it all began with a simple wish, a dream that came from our black swans' mind. She wished more than her baby brother to be taken away, and so it all shall end with this wish…_

A clucking sound echoed throughout the anti-gravity room along with deeply voiced words. Darwin would have been crushed, to say the least, as what appeared to be the castle walls flying around, floating upward, downward, side to side and in between. Every where these crumpled stones of the dwelling she ran through for less than thirteen hours could fly in every which way, they did. The words that would free her from this place and let her keep Toby had died ages ago against invisible barriers of space. 

"What?" Sarah said. Her tone of voice clearly stating that she did not agree with the outcomes of this game. "What do you mean that's it? How did I lose? I did everyth-".

"Everything by the book. Is that what you were going to say, hmm?" He asked, feigning curiosity. "My, Sarah. How easily you are to predict." He smiled a wolfish smile. "But that is to be expected of course." He stated before brushing past her slowly, turning his head to watch her as his grin grew more feral. 

"Wait a minute!" she declared as she spun around, her hair whipping around her face and ready to give him an interrogation before she abruptly stopped, forgetting the words that were about to spill past her lips. The room with the torn castle and empty space was not greeting her eyes. She spun her head around to look beyond her shoulder, her eyes widening slightly. Her mouth parted in preparation for a question as she turned her head to look back at the man that somehow defeated her. 

He was not in the white clothing as he was just five seconds ago. He was in the costume that she had not seen before, the costume he wore before he had changed plans with Hoggle, thinking that it was a clever idea, to fuel her interest in him until the final second had past. Her eyes wore a slight cruel glare as she gazed at him, not paying attention to the excessively bright white room that appeared to be the ballroom, only empty except for the two of them. 

He was on the second step, looking up at her with a slight tilt of his head. His gaze was curious, yet more relaxed, as if he really wanted to know what was on her mind. Neither his demeanor nor posture gave any indication that he might be mocking her. He wore an alert expression and a patient pose with his hands clasped behind his back. Sarah found this alarming for some reason; she had never seen him relaxed, never just being there. He always had a glint in his eyes or some sort of great intriguing and curious mystery written in them that she couldn't break her gaze from. But this expression was one of intensity, he was aware of her, fully, like when they danced, only it was just them, and his focus on her was much more than she thought was possible. He wasn't dancing around with her, ignoring others, thinking the rest weren't there, or facing her in the labyrinth with Hoggle before them. He was completely aware that they were alone, utterly alone. This privacy crushed on her like a person's foot on an ant, and it was because of this, that he wore this expression; he knew that no eyes were watching them, knew he could be completely frank with her, be opened with her, and she agreed with his choice silently that she preferred this solitude with him than anything else, that there was no good or evil being in the room, just them.

She visibly and mentally relaxed, walked down the steps, past him to an inviting plush floor pillow of light lavender. She fell down on it, all the hours of running and scrambling her brain in a pan like eggs were easing their way on her weary body. She gave a heavy sigh and went down to business, " How did I lose?"

She drifted her eyes to look up in his and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, clamping her hanging hands together loosely. 

He turned his head and looked at her before looking at the ground for a bit, deciding how to approach this new situation. "You." He said, before looking up at her. "You decided this ending." He finished before she could interrupt. 

She gave a frustrated sigh and leaned back in the plush pillow, hating the way he was dodging things with his cryptic answers. He made her ask more questions with his simple answers than actually giving her mind rest. She almost growled, but she held it in, she was starting to get impatient with him. She looked at her feet, which were sore. She bet she had blisters on her feet by now, considering that her shoes were not designed to be abused for so long. No shoes were designed to be worn for hours on end, she thought to herself. 

"How did I decide this ending? All I want is my brother!" she cried out, flinging her hands in the air. She gave a loud and sluggish "Lugh!" before falling back on the cushion, letting her head fall back all the way. She closed her eyes as the subject of all this mess came hurtling back into her foggy mind. She had forgotten about him, so to speak, once he said she had lost, once she turned around and liked the complete and airy comfortable solitude he seemed to want to share with her. 

She could practically hear him smirk as he gave a sort of bitter soft laugh. She heard him shift and heard his boots click on the marble as he came her way. "What is so funny?" she asked in a barely contained raging and frustrated tone. She raised her head up and opened her eyes, finally aware just how close he was. He had somehow brought a bright silver elaborately decorated and curved silver clothed love seat to sit in front of her and placed himself in it, spreading his arms on the back and stretching his legs out in to their length, crossing his ankles to where his feet were balancing on one heel. 

"You've heard me declare everything I did for you. You heard me speak of your demands of me, never realizing how weak I was becoming, how much you were pushing me into a corner, how much you were making me choose to lay down in defeat. Well, you have pushed, and now I'm pushing back." He said in a polite and matter of fact voice. 

His face that seemed so content and his body stretched and spread like a lazy lion so relaxed now looked deadly. Instead of the pleasant face, the wicked smile that he wore in the labyrinth graced his chiseled features once more. With just one simple facial change, his innocent posture and air changed back into the villain. 

She could have given a whooping war cry to make Xena grow five heads, eight bat wings, turn to the color of a mix between hot pink and neon green, and all out of envy. She could have strangled him, cursed him to the seven hells of China, anything, but she sat there and glared, her chest heaving from contained rage. 

He wasn't making any sense, and it was literally making her head split, spin and spew fire, just like Hades in that cartoon movie Hercules. If she were anyone else, her eye would have twitched. But she wasn't like everyone else, she didn't even settle on a migraine. Instead, she took three deep breaths while her eyes were closed, trying to decipher what he just said, but no answer came past the equal sign. She took a sharp intake of air, causing her head to tilt a little, and opened her eyes. Nothing but contempt for him was gleaming in her eyes like brown New York rain puddles. All the light in the room seemed to be attracted to her eyes' pools, invoking what was stirring in the depths to rise to the surface, accenting her malice. The same look she wore when she told that story to Toby, only with more menace. She never hated Toby, but she did find him annoying at times, she had to take it out on someone, and since he was the one that was the -unknowingly- cause of it all… But he was just a baby, her mind had kept telling her, he can't do anything else, besides, he doesn't yet know what he's doing. It was completely warped from her mind when her stepmother went on her case, and her dislike for the youngster throbbed. That dislike was nothing, it was a fly compared to her contempt for this man in front of her. 

"Why Sarah! Why hold such hate in your eyes?" he said with that trademark smile. "Do I really cause you to feel that much emotion from just pestering you with seemingly clueless answers?" he said with a mock pout, turning his head half way to the side, as if the difference in the light would help him contemplate her better. A grin spread across his features; a grin she knew too well. She could tell he was playing another game with her, not the 'go-fetch-pup' game, but the 'cat-and-mouse' game, and she had the sneaking suspicion that she was the mouse. 

He's toying with me, she thought. Her lips pursed at that train and she, if possible, added more daggers to her stare. 

"Ah," he started, his expression the crossroad between superior delight and mock, "The light bulb has turned yellow." He stated. 

It was at this moment she seriously given the strangling part heavy consideration. Of course, that wouldn't get her anywhere, but no one would miss him… she hoped. She mentally sighed and decided to stick on glowering at him. 

"How did I lose?" she asked slowly, in a calm but not pleasant voice. 

"I thought for a moment that a cat had run off with your tongue. But, no, sadly." He said and gave her a malicious grin. 

"Answer my question, with non of your riddles." She stated; all form of the young Sarah had seemed to evaporate along with her patience.

He pursed his lips and got up, not tilting his head to look down at her. He gave a cocky smirk, which turned into a cocky smile, and turned to his left, his hands clasped behind his back, as he regally strutted over to a mist only ten feet away. She watched him go, her anger pitching. She knew he could feel her stare, how could he not? He felt her gaze when they were here last, could feel her desperation to find him through all the masses of masked people. If he could feel it then, he could feel it now, and she felt the glory spotlight fall on her. She was making him uncomfortable, she could tell. He was trying to avoid answering her previous question, trying to rally her anger at something else, and it wasn't working. She smirked in triumph. 

It was then that she noticed that the mist had turned into a silver and marble home bar. She watched him as he uncorked a long slender necked bottle that held a cream colored liquid and then watched as the bottle disappeared behind his frame, where she listened to the bottle clink against a glass and hear the liquid splash into new confines. She heard another clink and she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Oh he was trying, she thought. Her eyes stayed in the slight narrow position of suspicion as he continued with whatever and put the cork back into the bottle, setting it down to his right. Her thoughts were confirmed when he turned around and walked back to her. He had poured a second glass. 

He stood in front of her and held out his right arm to offer her the glass of champagne. She looked up at him as if his hair had turned a flaming orange and his face sported a bozo clown red nose. She let out a disbelieved snort, her expression molding into that disbelief. "You don't trust me." He stated with a grim face. "I wonder why?" she said, mocking a question. 

"Well." he said, straightening up, she noticed he looked rather ruffled. "You're not running the labyrinth." He stated and offered her the champagne again. "So?" she asked, "I apparently lost, which I'd like to know down to the detail how I managed that, and you're offering me champagne. You offered me a peach which induced a hallucination, you're handing me, freely I might add, champagne that might not be really cheap, what's it going to do to me?" she stated, her arms still crossed over her chest. "I'm not taking it." 

He almost sighed. She was starting to become too paranoid to do him any good. He closed his eyes, infuriating woman, he thought before he opened them again and bowed his head to look at her. "And if I was to drink from it as well, you still won't take it?" he asked. 

"No." 

Damn her. 

"Why is that?" he asked, masking his frustration and nervousness with his curious-mocking tone. He lifted his eyebrows slightly, his eyes automatically looking widened to a small degree, in an attempt to pull of a curious expression to put emphasis on the cover. 

"You might be immune to whatever you put in there. How do I know it won't affect you? Besides, I'm too young to drink, my mother told me…" she stopped abruptly and looked away.

He stared at her for a moment, he was being over thrown by the mere memory of a woman and a time that held certain rules and regulations that would, if held and enforced, make their future generations be made of morals and dignity. He was proud of Sarah's wits and loyalty to her mother and herself, but it wasn't helping him.

He sat down, both glasses in his hands, and looked her over; stuck between admiration, determination and frustration. He didn't want to break her, completely, but he'll be damned, and quite literally, if he gives up. With a somewhat kind and genuine smirk, he sat down the glass he held in his right and leaned back, taking his left leg and crossing it over his right to a comfortable position (an: it takes a very secured man to be able to do that). He lounged his right arm over the back of the love seat as he sipped his champagne, just sitting quietly and staring at her, even over the rim, he needed to think of a way to get her to play along. 

Sarah watched him at first, her anger ebbed and her question forgotten, until she realized his unwavering stare would continue for a very long while. So, fighting the natural sense to fidget, she decided to take in her surroundings. It was a very beautiful place indeed. The floor seemed to be checkered here and there, like what you use to see in kitchens. It held gray swirls that reminded her of when her mother smoked and how she use to blow the smoke in certain directions to make funny faces or far away places. Her mother quit smoking though when Sarah's eyes would water constantly, even if there wasn't any smoke, making her a standing target for when she played. Thus the reason why Sarah had her first broken bones, her eyes were watering.

She was seven and was playing at the park in spring while her mother watched her. She entertained herself by chasing a bumblebee around and around and picking flowers to put in her mother's thick hair. Her mother had told her to stay away from where they were building the gazebo, but she didn't listen. On her way back to decorate her laughing mother, she tripped, stumbled and fell. She didn't see the two by four that someone had laid there because her eyes were starting to water, hence why they were outside and at the park. When she tripped, like any normal person, she tried to regain her balance. She put her left foot out before her, and that's what caused her to break not one bone, but two. She stepped on the nail that was sticking up, going straight through her foot. This caused her to twist her body from the pain and she landed on her left hand with her left foot twisting and giving away. Later on, when they were at the hospital, the doctors had to do the heinous crime of cutting her foot off, or so she thought they were going to do. A red line was running up her leg at an alarming rate, it started almost instantaneously after Sarah's foot met the nail. The doctors had to lance her foot, which she didn't really particularly like and even slapped the doctors for it. 

It was this incident that had caused Sarah's mother to quit smoking. Sarah was a bit devastated though, she loved it when she could play with the smoke; safely play with it she thought at the time. She understood why her mother stopped, but she missed playing with the smoke, making a dinosaur just before it drifted into nothing. Her mother did light a cigarette once in a while for her daughter and watched with amusement as Sarah puckered her lips and moved around like some silly goose, dodging her head and turning in circles to get the image just right. That's what her mother would call her, silly goose, _her_ silly goose. 

She looked at one of the marble pieces and saw that the gray swirl reminded her of the image she tried to make when she was five, failing miserably to conjure up a simple 'O', it was her first try to make anything. She remembered that she was over at her grandmother's house, and her grandmother smoked as well, smoke was everywhere and Sarah was bored, so she blew at the smoke and got a new hobby in the process. The 'O' didn't come out an 'O' but rather a weird zigzagging shape that looked like a snake, it even had the tongue hissing out, causing her to giggle that day. She focused on the marble and saw the same exact shape, just as she remembered it, even the tongue. She thought, before she was disturbed, that she even saw the snake move, just as it did that day. 

Jareth saw what was going through her mind; it played out like a movie in her eyes. It was then that he would have to play the cards the way he left as a last resort. He had to break her. 

"Sarah…" 

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MWHAHAHAHAHA! CLIFF HANGER!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA. Okay, I really did enjoy writing this, honestly. A lot of people say they enjoy writing it, and I sometimes get the feeling they're only saying that to get people to review. You sneakers! But I did enjoy this very much. The whole nail in foot thing, actually happened, to me! If only I knew curses back then I would have been a very colorful child indeed. Actually, my mother, from what I hear, had to lance it because it was too fast and we were quite a ways away from the hospital. I think that was even the incident where my brother and sister had to sit on me to keep me still, or that might be the time I almost lost my finger. Dunno. But when you see someone coming at you with a (maybe huge?) knife, what will you do?

But all's good, I still have my foot! Thank God she's a nurse, heh? And yes, for those of you whose lucky enough to not have parent/s who smokes twelve thousand packs of cigarettes every day, the smoke does cause eyes to water, if you've been around it long enough. It's really horrible, I can't see a thing and after a while it hurts to rub the water away because of all the friction of rubbing and patting your eyes, which, by the way, has turned into Niagara Fall; not very pleasant. It looks like you've been crying and after a while, you start hating people for asking you what's wrong. Don't smoke! It's a killer anyway! It's pure torture for me when I'm stuck in this SUV with two women (mom and gram) who smoke like its chocolate! And even worse, the windows are barely cracked open! I always crack the side window as far as it can go (which isn't very much) and stick my nose out. My eyes water all the time (even burn sometimes) and I know well enough to leave them alone unless I need to see something. This is true! I swear! It's a horrible habit anyway! Gives you smoker lines and some U-G-L-Y teeth. Bad breath too, no breath mint can survive.

Anyway, I got off the subject… I would be very grateful for any reviews and constructive criticism, particularly on Sarah, I'm not sure if I got her personality right. So for all you folks out there that are pyromaniacs, you can just drop that flamethrower that you keep in your duster. Use it for another day on another person. Yes, I did base some of Sarah's past with my own. But my mother still smokes and it wasn't the water can of eyes that I stepped on the nail, I didn't see it at all, damn the high grass! Also, I wasn't nor am I now that close with my mother, though sometimes I like to think I am. Sad, I know… I always called my best-friends mother mom, because she treated me like her own child… Anyway… I know Sarah's mom "supposedly", strong word, took off for her career, but what if her mother died? Maybe she didn't take off, unless I completely missed some very important info, which is likely considering a bat can see better than I can. Yes, I saw the photo with her mother on the newspaper, but did anyone think that might be a photo from the past? Well, somewhat distant past… But I thought that might be why she's upset with her father and hates her stepmother, sure, we think it's because Sarah thinks she's trying to go into her own mom's position and claim her as her own child, but this would seem like a better reason to pull up the defenses, especially since a lot of children think they're parents were meant for one another and going off and marrying someone else is the worst crime you could ever commit, especially if that person died. Which, in a sense, it can be. Dunno. 

Thanks!


	2. 2

The White Crow and Black Swan

By: Kill Bill

Thank you for reviewing. Yes, I know I'm evil, heh heh. But, sadly, Sarah will suffer. And for those who want to know what Ship this story sails, it sails the… No Pair Ship. Now don't be discouraged, it'll have a hint between the two fighters, maybe a strong hint, but no smushy-moochy, gutter dwellers. We must clean those minds of yours! Purge the demons of smut from your soul! Okay, I couldn't resist going weird on you. Well, on with the story….

"WHAT!" 

The word echoed around the ballroom, causing pain to the Kings' ears as it kept vibrating and bouncing back off the walls to him. He cringed slightly and cocked his head lightly as he watched the young girl collapse to the floor. 

He clucked his tongue as he watched with the façade of amusement, hiding his tortured heart, as the young girl stared in space, disbelief in her face. He had dealt his cruel cards and it seemed she cracked under his words, his truth, why would he lie about something so important anyway? He cracked her, or so he thought. 

Sarah couldn't believe what he just said as she stared in space, everything in her life was fake? Every memory of her mother, the mornings she would find herself wrapped securely in warm arms, waves of protection comforting her in nights when she had nightmares, it was fake, according to him. The times she spent nights at her grandmother's trailer when she was small and racing a young dog around her half acre, always losing until he reached a ripe age. Her first story that was told by her mother, her most favorite, Peter Pan, the emotions she carried as her mother told the story from the book seemed so real, too vivid. 

He's playing with me. At this thought, she looked up at the man who was watching her with a smirk on his face and unleashed her fury.

WHAP!

The sound hurtled around the large room, almost breaking the ballroom from its ferocious volume. Jareth stumbled from his spot, almost falling back into the loveseat. He felt as if his jaw was first hit with a speeding train and then glued tightly back in place. He put a gloved hand up to the right side of his face, his eyes dazed from pain and wonder, he didn't even see her move to stand up or draw her hand back. A thought struck him suddenly; he has just unleashed a hurricane. Hurricane Sarah, he smirked at the thought, though it pained him greatly.

"How dare you say that all I've remembered is fake!" she seethed out, her face was flushed a deep crimson pink as her eyes turned almost black, no light reflecting in their depths. He looked at her from the corner of his eye since he thought it best to keep his head turned away from her and saw that he wasn't look at Sarah, but a potential killer that he would have no protection from, not even his magic would save him. That was her aura, and it was radiating off her in great waves that only the most extreme of surfers would take on, and she was only getting more upset. 

"YOU HAVE GALL TO STAND THERE AND SAY MY MOTHER WASN'T REAL!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, her aura turning darker. He really did get himself in a really bad mess, he mused. He had touched a very soft and opened nerve. He turned to look at her again, afraid of what she might do, when a fist connected with his nose. He fell back into the loveseat with such force that he almost knocked it over. 

Yes, he did touch a raw nerve. More of a nuclear bomb so sensitive to touch that a fly would set it off, he thought as he clutched his nose, amazed that it wasn't bleeding or broken. He looked at her underneath his hair and found that she was shaking her hand from the pain, but the pain didn't seem to register fully, because she didn't show any hint of actually feeling the pain. 

"How can I not be real? How can I be some sort of weird figment of your imagination?" she asked in a deadly calm tone. He knew he had to choose his words carefully; it would be his doom by horrible painful death if he didn't focus on his words. 

"How can you be a figment? Quite simply my dear." He said and stood up, quietly sniffing and routinely checking his nose to see that it was still attached. She had a good right arm, a very good right arm, he thought to himself, as he looked her in the eye. "I'll show you." He said and with a sudden gust of wind they had changed scenery to that of a hospital delivery room where Sarah's mother was giving birth to her. 

"What's this got to do with anything?" she asked, but instead of malice in her voice, awe and sadness graced it's edges. She moved closer, not really expecting him to answer her. She looked at her mother; it had been a very long time since she had seen her mother living, a long time since she good be this near to her in person. 

Her mother looked very much like her, in fact, Sarah was sure that when she turned thirty she'd look exactly like her mother, something that she was proud of. 

"It has everything to do with our current situation." Jareth replied as he came up behind her and watched as Sarah's mother pushed and heaved, her thick hair matting to her sweating forehead. Sarah tore her gaze from her mother to Jareth's eyes. She didn't even need to say anything; she knew it was plainly written on her face. What the heck did he mean by that? 

"You're not making _any_ sense!" Sarah exclaimed, exasperated and turned her head from glaring over her shoulder to look at her mother, her eyes softening. Jareths' eyes followed her movement as he stood still behind her, his hands, like always, clasped behind his back. His eyes adverted from Sarah's form to one that was now wailing and crying, being held in a woman's arms. 

Sarah's mother had just given birth to her first and only baby and was now holding her in her arms. She smiled brightly and tucked the hair that fell in her face behind her left ear as she held her daughter with her right arm. 

"Oh my." The woman said as her smile grew brighter. "You're so beautiful!" she gasped out as small little tears came sprouting from her eyes. She quickly dashed the small trails away before she wrapped her left arm around her daughter. Baby Sarah had gone quiet and was looking at her mother through skeptical and bright eyes. Then, all of the sudden, the Baby Sarah gurgled and lifted it's arm as best as it could, trying to reach her mother's face. Sarah's mother smiled and softly grabbed the tiny hand and kissed each finger before bending down, closing her eyes, and gave a mother's first kiss to her daughter on her forehead. 

Wind picked up suddenly and Sarah soon found herself back in the ballroom. She slowly turned around to face Jareth, who she didn't remember that he was that close, and almost brushed her nose against his face. But she didn't seem to notice; her eyes were blank of any readable emotion. Luckily for her, they were in the same stance, as when they first took off, so she didn't have to worry about embarrassing herself when she fell on her bottom on the plush floor chair. 

She missed her mother, very much so, and seeing that part of her past increased the feeling ten fold. Her mother loved her very much, more than what she could comprehend. She knew her mother loved, oh yes, but, just to what degree she didn't pinpoint as high until she saw that moment in time, now she knew there was no scale to pinpoint how much her mother loved her. Her mother's love for her was like numbers, never ending, you could always keep adding a digit to what seems the highest number and still get another number; there isn't any end to them. And so that was how her mother loved her, to no end. No matter how silly Sarah was, or what she did, her mother would always love her; just because she added something to the mess didn't change a thing with the love she was receiving. 

At this realization, Sarah felt like the fungus that grew underneath mold. She always took her mother's love for granted, thinking there was a limit to it. So, like any normal child that thinks this, she would always pester her mother, asking what she would do, how much did she love her and so forth. She would get in trouble in school for whatever; bring shame and disappointment to her mother. She felt guilty then, for doing that to her mother, but now she felt low, extremely low. Her mother loved her before she was born, that's what her mother said to her, even before she was conceived, her mother loved her with all of her heart. Her mother would tell her on the crack of dawn on her birthday, after she crept into Sarah's bed, that she use to dream of her when she was a little girl. She would tell her that she knew her before she was born and how she knew what she was going to come out looking like. But when she was born, it was a different story, she couldn't possibly think that she was going to come out that beautiful. 

Every birthday her mother would tell her that, and every birthday she would get the wave of feeling loved, extremely loved. She grew up to think that her mother was being evil to her and everything, like normal teenagers, but she wasn't, she was just being a caring mother. 

Never in her life did Sarah feel this bad and all she could do was sit there and stare into space, realizing that she could never tell her mother how sorry she was. 

AHAHAHAHAH!!! It's short, I admit. I have a new kitten that I adopted. A kitten that won't stop purring and shoving herself in my hands and face. So, to avoid making incoherent sentences, I have to keep it short. I'll get the next chapter posted as soon as possible. Sorry folks, but I thought you might like some of it instead of none. Sorry! Oh, I'm waiting, but I really want to apply for the column thing, so, I was wondering, am I column worthy or do I need to sit down and shut up? Be honest, seriously, I'm asking for it. 


	3. 3

The White Crow and Black Swan

By: Kill Bill: You know, I've just noticed, but the initials of my penname are the same initials for Kate Beckinsale, hmmm…. That was a pointless thing to say.

Thanks to all who reviewed! I feel so loved! Really, I do! I have three cats and two dogs, I somehow manage to write with just four animals, they like to stay to themselves, but Mindy, the new kit, likes lovin's, lots and lots of lovin's. She demands being pet even when I'm asleep! -_-. Anywho… I'm glad some of you like the no-ship pairing and find that I'm column worthy! YEEPIEE! Okay, I'm on with the story. 

Raise the masts you scurvy dogs! 

Jareth had noticed Sarah go into a bottomless empty shell persona. This wasn't what he wanted to do to her, bring back memories of her mother and make her feel low, but it was the only way to insure his and his home's survival, to make her go insane. Maybe, he began to think, that I won't have to break her completely. He pondered on it, with half a mind, mind you. One eye was focused on how to go about his plan while the other, with more focus, was watching Sarah's every breath. He tried, and tried to think of a way to put his scheme to work without going to the last resort, the extreme. But alas, he could not for to his sad dismay, he couldn't do two things at once; his entire focus would always find a landing on the young girl before him. He didn't want to try a break her, he wanted her to be her, but he wouldn't survive if she was her. It wasn't an easy decision to make, he liked Sarah, a lot, but he had half the mind to think that it was because of her that he was infatuated with her. Confusing to the readers, yes, but you must wait. After he won, and he will, he thought, he would see if it was her casting the spell, or if it was real. 

He shook his head, he didn't want to die, nor did he want to lose his home because of her. "Sarah." He said as he put on his best mocking look, the look he gave Hoggle when Hoggle was saying he gave "the little lady a slip". The knowing smirk in his stoned chiseled face, he took a step forward, closing the distance between him and Sarah's legs. "Sarah." He said again. She didn't even respond to the first time he said her name. He pursed his lips in a mildly annoyed manner and bent down, unclasping his hands from behind his back. He bent down in the same position as he had when he confronted Hoggle in the tunnel, one hand stroking his chin while the other lay carelessly across his knee. Even the expression was the same. 

He moved his free hand to tilt Sarah's head a fraction, so that her brown eyes were almost leveled with his own. "Sarah." He said more gently, this time with more success. Sarah's eyes came into focus as she took in the King's face, which wore an expression that said what _are_ you doing. She was about to tell him what she felt, about to confide in him how low she felt at the moment, that she was a horrible child to her mother and didn't deserve her mother's love. If she were to do that, my friends, the story would end here, right now, but we all know Sarah and how she loves to makes things even harder and end up the victor after throttling herself from her own blindness.  

She narrowed her eyes; the once blank eyes that turned to sweet and tear filled had turned to hard-core iron. Jareth was, to say the least, taken aback. She wasn't playing along quite as well as he had hoped. Not to worry, he thought, it makes it a worthy war to win. He didn't honestly think she would give up so easily and believe his words "You're a figment for my amusement". He was glad, and most definitely frustrated. She had just kicked the war up a notch. He had to drop the bomb and become the hungry vulture circling the pray. 

"I'm real. There's no way I can't be." She whispered in deadly venom filled voice, causing Jareth to drop his gentle hold on her chin. He stood up abruptly and looked down at her with the same mild annoyance, looking at her as if she was nothing more than a mere servant babbling at him. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly; mouth always pursed. 

"Well," he began, shifting his eyes to a spot on the floor past Sarah's chair and cocked his head, tugging on his gloves, "If you prefer to fight that way…" He let the sentence hang, and with the pick up on the wind, the two found themselves in the dismembered room that was the beginning of all the chaos. Jareth had changed clothes, again. He now sported the familiar white clothing he had worn before she said the words that meant zilch, except for the cloak that made him look like a very huge bird. 

Now, he thought, begins the bombing. With a well-placed wicked grin, he stepped out of the shadows as he had before, and began to meddle with her mind. 

Oh, such a set up for a cliffhanger, should I? Oh, I dunno, it's awfully short… but it's awfully tempting. Heh heh heh heh heh, I tink I whillel. Oh, I'm also excited by something else…. I'M GOING TO THE DAVID BOWIE CONCERT!!!!! How cool is that! I couldn't contain it! At the Murat Temple in Indianapolis! WOOHOO! I'm doing a funky jig. I'm so happy I can't move! I'm shaking with happiness! This will be my second concert, sadly, the first was… well, no need to tell you and give you horrible nightmares. Anyway, is anyone else going? Has anyone else gone? I can't wait!

But out of my happy state and my gracious and generous heart, I will tell you a little bit about the fourth chapter. The war is going to the hottest pit of Hell in the speed of light. I think that it will be the second to last chapter, I didn't really intend for this story to be a long winded novel length tale, but I also didn't think it would be past two chapters either, so, maybe it'll be longer. Depends, I suppose, on you lovely readers! 


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